


Happy Hallowe'en, Beelzebub

by vol_ctrl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bonfires, Drinking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Haunted Houses, He/Him Pronouns for Gabriel, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Jack o'Lanterns, Kissing, Knifeplay, M/M, Orgy, Party, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Prankster Beelzebub, Priest Costume, Public Sex, Pumpkin carving, Scared Gabriel, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), TPing, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Toilet Papering, Turnip Carving, Witch Costume, nurse outfit, satanists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 20:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21259301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl/pseuds/vol_ctrl
Summary: A series of scenes in which Beelzebub revels in their favorite holiday, of course tormenting Gabriel throughout the entire month of October.





	Happy Hallowe'en, Beelzebub

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Hallowe'en!! I got it in my head that Halloween is Beelzebub's favorite holiday, and I could not let it go. I wrote this for fun in a rush to finish before Hallowe'en, so it's probably riddled with little typos. Hope you have as much Hallowe'en fun reading it as I did writing it!

Heaven tried to monopolize the traditions surrounding elements of death and rebirth in the autumnal seasons, but Hell wasn’t going to let that slide without a fight. If mortals were going to celebrate the dead, Hell wasn’t going to pass up a chance to capitalize on the existential dread and horror of death.

It didn’t take much influence--humans love a good scare and laughing in the face of death. And for this tradition of Hallowe’en, the humans had really outdone themselves.

Hallowe’en was Beelzebub’s favorite holiday. What wasn’t there to love? The creepy aesthetic, dark colors, cobwebs and tombstones, humans traipsing around as demons and villains and ghouls, not to mention the boom of commercialism--Hallowe’en candy, Hallowe’en costumes, Hallowe’en decorations, marketed all month, even spilling into the months prior, for one singular night.

Heaven could have their lame All Saints’ Day. All Hallows’ Eve was anticipated all month, and Beelzebub reveled in it. 

Gabriel dreaded it. Although he indulged Beelzebub in most things, there was a downside to their arrangement. When he wasn’t dreading the waning days of September, usually one of his favorite times of the year with the leaves changing and Christmas just a few months away, he was suffering Beelzebub’s month-long torment in celebration of their favorite holiday.

Beelzebub had summoned him the first week of October for a date. A festive little date--Beelzebub had insisted he wear a costume. Gabriel stood at their usual meeting place in Green Park, a stone’s throw from St James Park, but far enough away that they were unlikely to run into the other angel and demon clandestinely meeting. He fidgeted in his priest outfit. It had been the safest option that came to mind.

He checked his watch, then looked up at the darkening sky. Despite spending the entire month of October on edge, he didn’t hear the oncoming swarm of flies, the noise lost to the droll traffic noise from the nearby road. A great shadow fell over him in the oncoming nightfall, and he looked over his shoulder just in time to let out a shriek as he was suddenly stormed by an enormous black cloud of buzzing, squirming flies. He was constricted, smothered by the writhing insects that threatened to violate any orifice not shut or covered by clothing.

Just as he felt like he was drowning in flies, they just as suddenly dispersed. He was left gasping, coughing on what he was sure a family of flies stuck in his throat.

“Hi, Gabriel.” Beelzebub stood before the archangel with a self-satisfied grin.

“That was terrifying! You could have discorporated me!” Gabriel cried, then resumed gagging on the tickle in his throat.

“Aww, I wazz juzzt giving you a little hug,” Beelzebub purred as they hefted an axe against their palm.

“Think of the, ugh--” Gabriel coughed, “ _ paperwork  _ if you had discorporated me with a dumb stunt like that.”

Beelzebub’s grin just widened.

“What are you wearing? Is that blood?” Gabriel asked weakly and cleared his throat.

The Lord of Hell was wearing a ragged, filthy plaid shirt and torn jeans. There was an absurd amount of blood on their pale, black-nailed hands and on the axe. “Axe murderer,” Beelzebub told him with pleasure, their eyes alight. The light dimmed as they looked Gabriel over and gave him a disappointed sneer. “What are you? A fucking priezzt?”

“You didn’t specify what I should dress up as,” Gabriel said defensively.

“Well, not  _ that.  _ Ugh. You’re zzo fucking boring.” Beelzebub snapped their fingers and changed Gabriel into a shiny vinyl nurse outfit that had no right anywhere near a hospital. “Much better,” Beelzebub preened as they appreciated the archangel’s shapely legs in sheer white thigh-highs.

Gabriel immediately pulled at the front of the too-short hem of his skirt, then gulped and pulled at the back with his other hand. “This is ridiculous. I look ridiculous. You can’t just change my costume!”

Beelzebub glared a challenge at Gabriel, and the archangel’s self-righteous anger turned to an imploring look. Seeing Gabriel back down, Beelzebub gave him another appraising look. “You look zzexy.”

Gabriel sighed. “Well, I  _ feel  _ ridiculous.”

“Come on, zzunzzhine,” Beelzebub said and swung the too-real prop axe onto their shoulder. “We’re going to a haunted houzze.”

Gabriel tottered on his heels after Beelzebub, ankles wobbling dangerously. “A real haunted house?” he asked.

Beelzebub rolled their eyes. “No, not a  _ real  _ haunted houzze, wimp. You  _ would  _ be afraid of ghozztzz…”

“I am not afraid of ghosts. I’m the Archangel--” Gabriel rolled his ankle, “ _ Fucking  _ Gabriel. I’m not afraid of lost souls, even the souls of the damned, I--”

“Zzhut up,” Beelzebub barked with a laugh. “We’re going to one of those haunted houzze attractionzz.”

“So it’s a fake haunted house. What’s the point of that?”

“You’ll see,” Beelzebub grinned.

It certainly was an attraction. Signs had been put up several blocks away, leading to the haunted house in question. Night had fallen, but that did not prevent Gabriel from attracting stares from everyone on the street. It wasn’t every day one saw a six foot tall man-shaped person in six inch heels wearing a sexy nurse costume, even during the Hallowe’en season.

Beelzebub waved them through the admission line without paying, leaving the door man with a glazed look in his eyes. As was to be expected, Gabriel hated every minute of it. He was all too susceptible to jump scares, and after the second one, was left trembling and clinging to Beelzebub. This was really the best part for Beelzebub, terrorizing the eternal daylights out of the archangel.

As they passed through a bedroom lit only by flickering television screens that occasionally screamed, Beelzebub tugged Gabriel off the well-trod path intended for the patrons of the haunted house. He stumbled as Beelzebub slammed him against a wall.

“What’re you doing?” Gabriel whispered.

Beelzebub grinned as a scream pealed from one of the televisions and made Gabriel jump and whimper. The flickering light cast the Lord of Hell in a truly terrifying light that made Gabriel decidedly less interested than he normally would have been with his lover pinning him against a wall.

“Little fantazzy of mine. You can’t fake true terror.” Beelzebub’s hand slipped under Gabriel’s skirt and fondled him through his lacy panties. Of course Beelzebub had apparated the costume replete with lacy panties.

Gabriel squirmed against the wall as Beelzebub palmed his cock. “Beelzebub--someone is going to catch us.”

“Zzhhhh,” Beelzebub buzzed and pressed a hand over Gabriel’s mouth. “If you zzcream, they’ll juzzt think it’zz part of the attraction.”

\-----

In an effort to prevent Beelzebub from terrorizing him throughout the month of October with more terrifying pastimes, Gabriel suggested their next date. He invited Beelzebub over to his apartment for some “Hallowe’en fun.” Beelzebub doubted Gabriel had any idea what “Hallowe’en fun” was, but agreed to come over nonetheless.

“You made it!” Gabriel opened the door happily, but grew cross as he saw Beelzebub’s outfit. “That’s just stupid.”

Beelzebub was wearing a shit-eating grin. They were also wearing a bright red devil costume, replete with sequin-covered horns and a pointed tail that hung limply between their legs. They even had a plastic pitchfork. “You dare call the devil zztupid?!” Beelzebub growled and jabbed at Gabriel with the pitchfork.

“Stop. Stop.” Gabriel tried to fend off the pitchfork, forced back from the door. “You’re an  _ actual  _ demon. What did Satan have to say about that costume? Lucky to still have a job.”

“He thought it wazz, in hizz wordzz, ‘a delight,’” Beelzebub laughed. They let themself in and slammed the door shut with their heel. “What’re you?” Beelzebub asked and squinted at Gabriel. “A Victorian accountant?”

Gabriel was dressed in a handsome navy suit with an old-fashioned high collar and cravat. “Joseph Smith,” he said with a toothy grin.

“Jozzeph who?” Beelzebub muttered. “Jesus’zz dad?”

Gabriel frowned. “No. Joseph  _ Smith. _ Y’know. Founder of Mormonism?” He let out an incredulous huff.

Beelzebub groaned. “For  _ Satan’zz  _ zzake, you are boring!” They snapped their fingers and Gabriel found himself dressed in the same silly devil get-up Beelzebub was wearing.

“Beelzebub! This is sacrilegious!”

Beelzebub cackled. “Just a couple of devilzz,” they sneered and poked at Gabriel with the pitchfork some more. Gabriel looked absolutely irritated. “Now,” the demon said coyly. “You zzaid zzomething about Hallowe’en fun?” If all Gabriel had in mind was a little old-fashioned “fun” in the bedroom with some Hallowe’en flair, Beelzebub wouldn’t complain. Although, they might be tempted to change up their costumes a bit, in that case.

Gabriel sighed and surrendered to wearing the costume, despite how it made him prickle all over. The fabric itself was comfortable enough, but  _ knowing  _ that he was playing dress up as the devil himself made him uncomfortable. “You like all these human Hallowe’en traditions, so,” Gabriel straightened himself and led the way to the kitchen, “I bought pumpkins.”

Beelzebub followed Gabriel and stared blankly at the pumpkins on display on the counter. They squinted up at Gabriel. “Pumpkinzz.”

Gabriel brightened. “For carving.”

Beelzebub rolled their eyes. “Carve you,” they muttered, then considered the notion. “Not a bad idea.”

Gabriel swallowed and pressed on. “See, they sell these little kits.” He showed Beelzebub a plastic package that contained several tiny carving tools with pumpkin-orange handles, and the promise of patterns inside.

“I’m more into turnipzz,” Beelzebub said.

“Turnips?”

“Carved turnipzz. It’s what they used to carve for Hallowe’en.”

“Oh, well… you can carve some turnips, if you want.”

Beelzebub frowned for a moment, then looked at Gabriel. The angel looked so hopeful. He was really trying to indulge them. They shot him a grin. “Alright, let’zz carve zzome fucking vegetablezz.”

Gabriel was hilariously awkward handling any sort of gross matter, and the stringy innards of a pumpkin were no exception. He looked like he was going to be sick trying to clean out the inside. Adhering the pattern to the pumpkin went no easier. In the time it took him to carve a classic, grinning jack o’lantern, Beelzebub had whittled away five turnips with a kitchen knife. Gabriel had not realized a turnip could look so abjectly terrifying. He was glad he didn’t sleep or dream, but knew his subconscious would be haunted by the ghastly turnip horrors nonetheless.

“What do you think?” Gabriel asked as he turned his pumpkin to show Beelzebub. He looked proud of himself, and, as with all things, he had done quite a good job, despite bumbling through the whole process.

But Beelzebub was less than disinterested with Gabriel’s handiwork. They spun the knife in their hand and grabbed Gabriel by the front of his costume, dragging him into the plunging knife. The knife slipped through the flimsy fabric, but only the tip touched Gabriel’s gasping chest.

“I think thizz cozztume would look better in zzhredzz on your floor,” they growled with promise.

\-----

One of the upsides of October was that Gabriel could count on seeing a lot of Beelzebub. The downside of this was that it was usually in some terrifying encounter that made him nearly discorporate. The archangel spent all thirty-one days on edge, waiting for the next prank, expecting demons around every corner, and being very suspicious of any and all packages. (Beelzebub had once sent him an actual severed head, and the smell had stayed with him for days.)

The demon cajoled him into yet another traditional outing, this time a bonfire at a rural farm--the type of rural farm that wasn’t actually all that far from civilization and owned by a young couple who seemed to use the land exclusively for large raucous gatherings and very little agriculture.

The thought of having a large fire during the time of year when all the grass had gone brittle and very flammable seemed like a foolish hazard, but humans had never been known for their self-preservation instincts. They seemed to have a bottomless capacity to find new ways to tempt death. (Not that Death was complaining. Business was always booming.)

The first thing that Gabriel noticed as he approached the revelry was the distinct  _ sin  _ in the air. It wasn’t a violent sort of sin, so he could fairly safely check ‘sacrificial ritual’ off the list of potential scenarios he was walking into. But the sin was palpable, and as such, he struggled to determine if Beelzebub was already here.

The driveway up to the farm was dark, but through the firelight and orange string lights beyond, he could make out a winding path through the trees. Dim lanterns lit the path and the fake cobwebs festooned in the trees. He grimaced as he walked along, increasingly filled with dread. Expecting something to jump out at you or suddenly cackle and shriek out of a tinny speaker did nothing to abate the shock and fear when it happened. Had Gabriel been the owner of a functional bladder, he would have evacuated it by the time he finally made it to the gathering of festive party-goers.

It didn’t  _ sound  _ all that sinful. The party had all the trappings of a good time--loud music, albeit with a Hallowe’en bent, a huge, cheery bonfire, costumed people dancing and talking and drinking, some large table of various assortments of gross matter, not one but two kegs of beer, and enough additional coolers to facilitate an army.

It wasn’t that Gabriel hated parties. It was just that parties usually involved all the things he eschewed as an angel. Revelry was not inherently sinful, but there was a  _ right  _ way to revel. This was not it. 

“Hey, angel!”

Gabriel didn’t recognize the voice, but felt compelled to correct them, “Archangel.”

A woman in a slinky cat costume had meandered up to let him in the gate, red solo cup in hand, their features obscured by a feline masquerade mask. “Ha. Sure.”

Gabriel realized a moment too late that she had not been calling him angel because he  _ was  _ an angel, but because of his costume. He’d thought Beelzebub might get a kick out of him dressing up as  _ himself,  _ in full regalia from the old days. Given the general theme of the other costumes he could see from a distance, wearing white might not have been the best choice.

“You friends with Sherry and Dave?” the woman asked him, but didn’t seem to mind letting him in regardless.

“Uh, a… friend of a friend invited me?” Gabriel was still feeling a little shaken from his treacherous walk. He didn’t even know if Beelzebub was here. He went to stride past the woman with a tight smile.

“Woah, wait up!” She pushed her cup into his chest and slid sinuously close to halt him. “Can’t join the festivities without a mask.” Her giggle had a low, sensual quality to it. She reached past him toward a basket hanging from the fence and snatched up another mask. It happened to be a red one with little devil horns curled at the brow. 

Gabriel looked disgruntled, but he was more eager to be away from this sinful creature than he cared to find a less blasphemous mask. “Thanks,” he bit out with a grimace.

“Nice halo,” she purred as Gabriel took the mask from her, then slunk away.

Gabriel considered the mask. Did he really have to wear this? It appeared that everyone else had donned a mask. Perhaps anonymity was for the best. Not that any of these morals would recognize him.

In his time courting, for lack of a better word, the Lord of Hell, Gabriel had learned the merits of at least one type of gross matter: alcohol. And boy, did he want some alcohol right about now. He made a bee-line for the tables of refreshments, and then was faced with a conundrum. He’d never actually  _ made  _ his own drinks before. There was always wine. God bless wine.

As he sloshed some red into a plastic cup, he watched as a trio of costumed party-goers gathered at the liquor end of the table. Perhaps they would know how to mix a proper Manhattan? But as he watched, they simply poured the liquor into tiny glasses and shot it back all in one go.

“Is that… good?” Gabriel asked.

A pirate wiped their lips with the back of their hand and laughed. “It’s free!”

“It’s not the best,” a horrifying clown added, “but tequila’s tequila.”

“I’ve never had tequila before.”

The trio exchanged amused looks. “Big boy like you,” a furry-shouldered barbarian wearing very little to hide her generous chest slurred, “I think you can handle a little tequila.”

The pirate was already pouring another shot. “Here you go,  _ angel, _ ” they said sweetly.

Gabriel took the small glass. Such a small amount of liquid couldn’t be horrible. He smelled it and was surprised by the way the  _ smell  _ bit at his nose. He thought about sipping it, but his limited knowledge of social cues told him this would not improve his standing in the eyes of these strangers. Besides, if mortals could shoot it back so easily, the whole experience would probably prove underwhelming to him, an immortal celestial being.

He was very wrong. As soon as the liquid burned his mouth, he choked and nearly sprayed the trio with half-swallowed tequila. They burst into sharp peals of laughter as Gabriel coughed and slammed the shot glass down on the table hard enough to rattle the bottles.

“Woah there,” the clown sputtered.

“There, there, angel,” the pirate cackled.

“You barely got any of that down,” the barbarian pouted. “Here. Have another one. Do it proper this time.” She snatched the glass from Gabriel’s hand on the table and poured another.

“No--” Gabriel wheezed. His head was spinning and he wasn’t sure if it was from the fire burning down his throat or the coughing. “No. Thanks. That’s enough for me.”

The barbarian shoved the shot toward him, still pouting.

Gabriel waved his hand ineffectually.

“Well, don’t waste it,” the pirate muttered and took the shot instead.

Gabriel wiped at his eyes under his mask as the trio drifted away. How could mortals consume alcohol that way? His lips were still burning. He grabbed his wine and washed the taste down. Yugh. Cheap wine, too?

The night was seasonally cold, a brisk wind carrying the warmth from the fire across the field. Gabriel wasn’t sure if it was the cold making his limbs feel tingly, or if it was the awful tequila coursing through his system. He was drawn toward the bonfire to drive off the chill.

“Another dumb cozztume,” a familiar voice came up behind Gabriel.

“Beelzebub,” Gabriel sighed in relief. He turned to find the Lord of Hell in a very fetching black number with straps that formed a pentagram across their pale collarbones and allowed a daring glimpse of the swell of their small breasts. The hem of the skirt could not have been any shorter, nor the shiny spikes of their heeled boots any deadlier. From the nose up they were obscured by a glittering black mask, and a pointed hat sat atop their head.

“Ah-ah. No namezz tonight, Archangel,” Beelzebub buzzed as they sauntered forward. “Funny you would come to a mazzquerade drezzed azz yourzzelf. Idiot.” The Lord of Hell grabbed him by the front of his white robe and dragged him down into a kiss.

The touch of Beelzebub’s lips, soft and inviting, chased away his anxiety. “You’re not going to make me change this time, are you?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Beelzebub replied with an appraising look.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “I tried tequila for the first time.”

Beelzebub cackled. “I can zzmell it on you.”

“It was  _ horrible, _ ” Gabriel laughed.

“An acquired tazzte,” Beelzebub said sympathetically.

“Hmm,” Gabriel mused. The warmth of the bonfire at his back felt nice, despite its similarity to Hellfire. It didn’t have the sting of demonic fire. Another box checked:  _ not  _ a demonic gathering. “Like a certain demon’s company…”

Beelzebub liked Gabriel a little drunk. He was a lightweight, so it didn’t take much. Or perhaps the archangel was merely drunk on their company. Didn’t mind that thought, either. Beelzebub pulled Gabriel into another kiss and the angel rocked into him. He was just grateful not to be adrift in a sea of masked strangers.

Gabriel was drawn from the kiss by his own curiosity. “Is this what you do?”

“What?” Beelzebub asked.

“Bequeath your presence upon sinful mortals?”

Beelzebub smirked at Gabriel’s formal wording. “Only when invited.”

Gabriel raised a brow, but it was lost under his devil’s mask.

Still, Beelzebub caught the questioning quirk of his expressive mouth. “Thizz izz not juzzt any party.”

Gabriel glanced around. It looked fairly mundane to demand the Lord of Hell’s presence.

“Zzherry and Dave are friendzz of mine.”

Gabriel was downright floored by the idea of Beelzebub having human friends, and it showed.

“They’re very loyal.”

“Devil worshippers?” Gabriel hissed in a low voice.

“Zzatanizztzz.”

“What?” There were too many buzzes coming from Beelzebub’s lips to parse through the hiss and crackle of the bonfire.

“Zzatanizztzz,” Beelzebub repeated, louder.

Gabriel was all question marks.

“Yezz, for Zzatan’zz zzake. Devil worzzhipperzz.”

“ _ You invited me to a gathering of Devil worshippers? _ ” Gabriel gasped.

“Gabriel. How long have you been fucking me?”

Gabriel gaped like a fish out of water. “But! But if - oh, if Heaven hears about this -”

“Calm down,” Beelzebub buzzed. “There’zz enough zzin here to hide you.”

“Sin I should be  _ thwarting, _ ” Gabriel hissed.

Beelzebub smirked. “Why don’t we go up in the ball pit and you can  _ thwart  _ me all you like.”

Gabriel stood back with surprise. “There’s a ball pit?”

“A  _ zzpooky  _ ball pit,” Beelzebub promised and dragged Gabriel off.

\------

“What are we doing here?” Gabriel asked, exasperated.

It was midnight and the quaint town of Seaford was quiet as the grave. Beelzebub had demanded Gabriel for a late night rendezvous. The only saving grace was that they hadn’t asked to meet in a graveyard or some den of inequity for a seance. In fact, there was nothing particularly spooky about the little village in the South Downs. Even the decorations were more charming than creepy, every little cottage with its own wooden signs painted with ‘Happy Hallowe’en!’ and cartoonish ghosts or witches.

The cottage beyond the garden gate in front of which they stood had gone a bit overboard with the decorations. There was a great big cauldron lit with green light, bubbling with smoke in the garden. One window was occupied by a skeleton lit with holiday-appropriate orange light. Another boasted a rather elaborate mannequin dressed as a witch, replete with a realistic mask, lit low with purple light. The front had been swathed in fake cob-webs, and a giant, furry spider lurked above the front door. Jack o’lanterns lined the walk through the splendid garden that seemed particularly verdant, despite the bitter cold of the night.

Beelzebub joined Gabriel at the front gate in the most bizarre costume: a large beige coat, complementary tan waistcoat, and a button-up shirt of pale, robin’s egg blue. They were wearing a  _ tartan bowtie. _

“What are you  _ wearing? _ ” Gabriel balked, forgetting his previous line of inquiry. His eyes drifted up to the horrible wig of curly blond hair that sat over their head. Beelzebub hadn’t even bothered to tuck in their hair, adding to the unpleasant look. A glittery halo wobbled half-cocked from a headband-and-wire contraption strapped to their head.

“You’ll like this.” Beelzebub dropped two plastic bags at their sides, the contents a mystery. “But firzzt, your cozztume.” Beelzebub snapped their fingers.

“Ow!” Gabriel felt as if someone had hitched him up by his trousers. His muscular thighs were constricted by some unpleasantly tight fabric, and the inseam was suffocating his effort. The black jacket wasn’t bad, but Gabriel fiddled with the mysterious silvery accessory looped around his neck. “What is this?” he muttered. “A… scarf? A sash? A necklace?” When he looked at Beelzebub, he had to squint. “Did it get darker?” He realized, belatedly, that he was wearing sunglasses, and he promptly took them off.

“Keep ‘em on,” Beelzebub said, grinning from ear to ear. “It’zz part of the cozztume.”

“Even at night?” Gabriel huffed, but replaced the glasses. He could adjust his eyesight to see in the dark, it just required more effort than he wanted to make for some costume gag.

“You know whozze cottage that izz?” Beelzebub asked with a jerk of their chin.

Gabriel squinted at the cottage, then looked around the street. “No,” he shrugged.

“The traitorzzz.” Beelzebub’s grin spread impossibly wider.

“What?” Gabriel gasped. “Oh! That’s--” It suddenly dawned on him. “You’re Aziraphale, and I’m Crowley. Got it.” He smiled, proud of himself for figuring it out. Then it hit him. “Wait, I don’t want to be dressed up as Crowley!”

“Quiet down, you fucking idiot!” Beelzebub hissed and ducked down behind the fence, dragging Gabriel roughly down with them.

Gabriel hunched down, suddenly very afraid they would get caught. Caught doing what, he still wasn’t sure. But he sure as Heaven did  _ not  _ want to be caught dressed up as  _ Crowley  _ of all blessed things.

A bitter wind whistled through the winding road, but there was not a peep from the cottage. Well, other than the gravely ‘muahaha!’ that played from some speaker on the property.

“ _ What are we doing here? _ ” Gabriel hissed again.

Beelzebub rustled the bags open. The contents were still a mystery to Gabriel, and the dumb look on his face gave it away. Beelzebub smacked him upside the head.

“I don’t know what these human things are!” he whined.

Beelzebub growled and rolled their eyes. “Doezzn’t matter. I’ll zzhow you.” The demon popped back up and looked furtively around the street. They took great care to open the garden gate as quietly as demonly possible. “Bring the bagzz,” they whispered to Gabriel.

The angel acquiesced and tip-toed after Beelzebub. The demon waved him over, further into the garden, then rustled in one of the bags. They pulled out one of the white rolls from the bag and began to unroll it. They aimed at one of the large trees that had shaken off its leaves--if only to keep up with the fashion of the other trees in the neighborhood--and sent the roll sailing in the branches.

Gabriel watched the arc of soft paper fly into the branches, then tumble back to the ground. Beelzebub retrieved it and repeated the process.

“What is… the objective here?” Gabriel whispered, then jumped as the ‘muahaha!’ sounded again.

“Cover everything!” Beelzebub hissed gleefully.

Gabriel put down the bags and picked up his own roll. It took him a moment to figure out how to get the roll started, then another moment to decide where to start. He eyed up the bushes against the fence, and figured it was as good a place as any to start.

“Is this… decoration?” Gabriel hissed in Beelzebub’s direction.

The demon let out an over-loud laugh and clapped a hand over their mouth. “A fine Hallowe’en tradition!” they giggled.

“But they’re traitors! Why are we doing something nice for them?”

Beelzebub stormed over to Gabriel and punched his arm. “It’zz not niczze!” They were offended Gabriel would even suggest such a thing. “We’re making a big azz mezz they’ll have to clean up.”

“Oh.” The gears turned slowly in Gabriel’s head. “ _ Oh. _ ” Gabriel was not in the habit of condoning mischief, but… Compared to the crimes of those two, a little mischief seemed a fitting punishment. His look of confusion turned to a very un-angelic wicked grin.

“Now you’re getting it,” Beelzebub said with a matching grin.

The Lord of Hell and the Archangel Fucking Gabriel spent the next half hour tossing toilet paper over anything and everything, stomping on many a flower bed in the process. (Had Gabriel realized he was trampling through begonias and petunias, he would have restrained himself. As it was, he was too taken with mischievous delight to notice.)

Gabriel went to fetch another roll and found Beelzebub rustling in the other bag. They pulled out some sort of styrofoam box and popped the lid. He  _ did  _ recognize the contents: eggs. Before he could ask what the eggs were for, he watched in shock as Beelzebub chucked one directly at Crowley and Aziraphale’s door.

The archangel opened his mouth to protest, but was overcome by the desire to also throw an egg at those damned traitors. Or their cottage, at least. He picked up an egg and wound up his arm. Beelzebub looked at the archangel with unadulterated affection.

Gabriel practically jumped as the egg made contact and the yolk dribbled down the door. He exchanged a giddy look with Beelzebub.

They only made it through one of the cartons of eggs before a sudden celestial light pierced through the night; an angelic security spotlight. Beelzebub and Gabriel froze. The cottage door slammed open and the more terrifying monstrosity Gabriel had ever seen exploded from the doorframe.

It stopped short of the porch steps and suddenly shrank into a lanky, red-headed man-shape. “Lord Beelzebub?” Crowley balked.

Aziraphale stood just inside the doorway and caught sight of Gabriel immediately under the unnaturally bright light. “Gabriel!” he said in a scolding tone, hands on his hips. “ _ Really. _ ”

“Run!” Beelzebub hissed and dropped the carton of eggs. Carried on panicked wings, the archangel and the demon literally flew over the garden gate and fled the neighborhood.

“... Did we just get TP’d by our bosses?” Crowley asked.

“Former bosses,” Aziraphale harrumphed as he straightened his house coat. “And I don’t know what ‘TP’d’ is, but…” He stepped onto the porch. “Oh, look at the state of this.”

“My begonias!” Crowley cried in dismay. “Those monsters!”

Gabriel and Beelzebub alighted to the nearby--but not too nearby--chalk cliffs. Both were breathless, Gabriel from a panic he couldn’t quite place--he had no reason to be  _ panicked  _ being caught by a traitorous Principality--and Beelzebub from laughing themself hoarse.

“Oh, that was  _ priczzelezz _ ,” Beelzebub howled. “Definitely adding that to the yearly agenda.”

Gabriel laughed breathlessly, unable to take his eyes off the overjoyed Lord of Hell. He’d never seen Beelzebub have such fun, express their joy so freely. “That was…” He was still trying to catch his breath. “...pretty priceless,” he agreed with a renewed bout of laughter.

Beelzebub wiped a tear from their eye and looked up at Gabriel. “Knew you had it in you, Archangel,” they said with a grin.

“I must say… it was pretty fun,” he admitted.

Beelzebub ignored the beautiful scenery in favor of leaning into Gabriel’s chest with eyes only for his. They took off his stupid Crowley sunglasses and tossed them off the cliff. Gabriel pulled off Beelzebub’s Aziraphale wig and halo and, after a moment’s hesitation, tossed it similarly over the cliff. Beelzebub pulled him into a passionate kiss under the cold, cold Hallowe’en moon.

Gabriel was left breathless once more, but he managed to say one thing: “Happy Hallowe’en, Beelzebub.”

  
  
  



End file.
